19086/Gained in Translation

Gained in Translation
Date of Scene:	15 September 2024
Location:	Rabbit's Foot Occult
Synopsis:	Rachel and Amy bump into each other in a reagent shop. Shop talk becomes flirting... flirting becomes a date in the future? At least numbers were exchanged. RIP Rachel's SMS app.
Cast of Characters:	Amy Winston, Rachel Roth

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Amy Winston has posed:
As Amy steps up to the wooden door, her fingers linger just above the handle for a moment. The soft, jingly chime echoes into the quiet morning air as she pushes it open, and her eyes sweep the threshold. A faint shimmer of red dust stretches across the floor, marking the boundary, and instinctively, she can feel the protective energy swirling through it. No harm would come here, at least not willingly.

She steps across with a small sigh, her combat boots clicking lightly against the wooden floor. It had been a month since her return to Earth, but the reality of her situation hadn't quite settled. Supplies were dwindling, and her thoughts drifted back to Nilaa, where she could easily find what she needed, though at a dangerous cost.

"Not worth it," she mutters to herself, casting her gaze around the space. The room feels alive, not in the bustling sense, but with an energy that dances across her skin. Thin silks in hues of rich violets and deep reds cast an ethereal glow, filtering the daylight and filling the space with soft light. The northern and western walls are adorned with statues and trinkets, each representing worlds of myth and magic she knew all too well.

She moves with a sense of purpose, yet there's a hint of curiosity in her step. Her hands brush over the countertops as she approaches the rows of crystals, admiring their structure. The vibrancy, the energy, yes, this place had potential. Her magic stirred within her, resonating with the objects before her. Earth was different, though. Its connection to Nilaa's magic wasn't as strong. She couldn't feel the same raw power.

At the steps leading to the upper partition, Amy pauses, eyeing the candles, cauldrons, and incense. The scent of herbs and ancient oils fills the air. She could almost feel the nostalgia tugging at her. It had been two years since she last stepped foot on this world, but now, standing in a shop that mirrored her past, she felt the homesickness seemed to settle more deeply in her chest.

Her gaze finally drifts to the east wall where a glass display case holds ritual knives, swords, and fine jewelry, a sharp contrast to the old antique register perched on the counter. A note beside it catches her attention. "If you decide to play into negative energies, you might take home something you didn't intend to."

A faint smile tugs at her lips, her fingers brushing the crystal pendant hanging around her neck. She could respect the message, though she doubted she would ever lose herself to the darker side of magic.

"Now," she mutters quietly, more to herself than anyone, "let's see what this world can offer me before I make any rash decisions." Small tendrils of mist trail behind her clothes for those that can see such, the mist-silk in a shape of a hoodie. But the tight leggings that show off a gymnast's definition of toned legs with thicker thighs, the graphic tee and combat boots? All thrift store.

Rachel Roth has posed:
It may be murmured, whispered, and jokingly said quite loudly by her teammates and friends that Rachel Roth A) Does not leave the Tower for anything less than urgent danger, and B) She only owns dozens of identical leotards and cloaks. But this is entirely untrue.

She simply doesn't drag her friends along on her shopping trips. Kori might convince her to accompany her on a trip to buy the latest adorable plush or whatever the bubbly Tamaranean wants, but Rachel? Rachel wouldn't drag a friend along to pick up new magical reagents. For one thing, it's shocking how much you can order online these days, and also, she can immediately imagine the constant 'Ooh, what's that?' from anyone she brought along.

And while her particularly unique shade of pale skin and that small red gem in her forehead might make 'going undercover' a pipe dream, she does occasionally wear casual attire. And with the truest portion of autumn approaching, a black turtleneck sweater and slacks might be a bit stereotypical, but... well, it's dark, and comfy, and that's good enough for her. They even have the benefit of acting somewhat like camouflage when she lurks in shadows. But she's not lurking in shadows while she shops, oh no.

And so her attire, sensible and flattering as it may be, actually leaves her rather starkly visible as she's peering intently at small vials of herbs, lips twisted in a thoughtful expression.

When the door chime sounds, her quiet consideration is interrupted, her eyes alertly rolling to glance over her shoulder at the arrival and... one eyebrow lifts, an involuntary little twitch as she takes in the new arrival, positively radiating magic and good cheer and... gods, it's like Kori with sorcerous potential!

Those dark eyes narrow slightly, not in any sort of wariness or threat, oh no, just her usual intensity focused on... well, focusing. Her lips quirk as Amy admires the small sign, her slightly raspy voice chiming out, "That sign is melodramatic. You'll wind up leaving with something you didn't intend to anyway. Magic and book shops are terrible for that. You need some sage or wyrmwood and then you find yourself leaving with some herbal tea as a little treat, and a book you didn't realize they'd have a copy of, and probably a cookie."

Her eyes flicker to the display case of ritual and other blades, "Or, I suppose, with a sword. Depending on your mood." She heaves out a soft sigh, like she's done that herself at least once. But who hasn't accidentally bought a sword on an impulse? Totally understandable.

Amy Winston has posed:
Hearing the chime of the door, Amy glances over at the girl entering the shop and approaching her. The dark turtleneck and slacks catch her attention, but it's the faint glow of magic that makes her pause and raise an eyebrow. Clearly, someone who knows her way around the mystical arts.

She giggles softly at Rachel's comment, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. "Well, I suppose you're right! It's like walking into a candy store and swearing you'll just look at the chocolates. At least until something that appears tastier catches your eye." Amy steps closer, playfully brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "But who can resist a bit of temptation? Honestly, I might end up with a whole lot more than I bargained for, but that's part of the fun, isn't it?"

Her gaze follows Rachel's to the swords. "I mean, tea and cookies are great, but a sword? Now that's a statement piece!" She gives a light-hearted shrug, her hands resting on her hips. "I'm Amy, by the way. New in town, well, new on Earth, sort of - its complicated - and always on the lookout for a bit of adventure. What about you? Out for a casual shopping spree, or did something call to you today?"

Amy chuckles softly, her eyes lingering on the swords for a moment before she looks back at Rachel. "Although, if I'm honest, I can make my own swords. It's a neat trick, but still... I guess there's always something fun about finding a blade with a bit of history behind it." She gives a playful wink, her cheerful energy still radiating despite the weight of the magic in the shop.

"What about you? Do you have a thing for swords, or are you more of a 'stock up on mystical herbs' kind of shopper?" she asks with a grin, her curiosity bubbling up. One finger draws across the flat of a blade in thought, considering the worksmanship.

Rachel Roth has posed:
There's a soft little murmur from Rachel that might serve as a chiming giggle from anyone else, and her head bobs, "Oh, yes. Exactly like a candy store. Well, perhaps with more worries about accidentally opening a portal to the demon realms... perhaps." Eyes narrow, flicking to follow that little motion to draw strand of hair back, her head tilting, both eyebrows raising. "And that can be quite true. Candy and magic are both rife with temptation that one needs to resist."

Her own hand lifts to casually draw back purple locks behind her ear, voice dropping to a dry murmur, "Or at least be responsible in indulging." One eyebrow lifts at that mention of being new in town. Well, really it's more the 'New to Earth', but... there are a lot of people new to Earth lately, she supposes. "I'm Rachel, I'm... not new to town. Or Earth. I mean, I don't live in Westchester. So I actually am, in a way, new to town."

She snorts out a soft breath, dark lips spreading in a wry grin, "Oh, I'm very much more the herbs and tomes and grimoires sort of girl. I've got a few ceremonial daggers, but they're more mementos than anything. I do /not/ have a shoebox full of daggers and swords under my bed or in my closet." She snickers softly and shakes her head slowly, "I just... enjoy the atmosphere of these smaller stores. Like, if you need thyme and sage, you /could/ just go to a supermarket but the trappings and traditions of getting them in the right atmosphere is so much more satisfying, yes?" Her eyes narrow and she murmurs thoughtfully, "Something tells me you might be more likely to have a collection of swords. You've got that vibe around you."

Amy Winston has posed:
Amy lets out a soft laugh, her eyes sparkling with amusement at Rachel's dry humor. "A candy store with a side of demonic portals - who doesn't love a little risk with their magic?" She flashes a playful grin, leaning in just slightly, her voice teasing. "Though, I like to think I'm pretty good at resisting?" she comments softly to Rachel, before adding, "...at least most of the time."

She tilts her head, nodding as Rachel introduces herself, her curiosity piqued. "Rachel, huh? I had a feeling there was more to you than herbs and tomes. And who wants herbs from the grocery store? I mean, great if you're making a stew." She raises an eyebrow, a mischievous smile tugging at her lips. "And hey, no judgment on the ceremonial daggers. We all have our keepsakes, right?"

Amy's fingers toy absentmindedly with the pendant around her neck as she continues. "But yeah, you're right. I do have a thing for swords. Maybe it's the whole 'battle sorceress princess' thing," she says, half-joking but clearly proud of her identity. "I've got a few tucked away? though, if I really need one, I can just make it." Her eyes gleam for a moment, magic humming softly within her.

"But you're totally right about the vibe of these stores. It's like stepping into a different world, where everything has history, power, and meaning. Much better than grabbing sage from a supermarket aisle." She winks, her tone cheerful, but with an understanding of the magic that connects them both. "Plus the customers are way cuter." She says absently, turning as she looks over some of the crystals. "Would rather have the real gems, but that's a bit costly." comes her admission. "Trip yesterday chewed through a lot of stuff." Another reason for the hoodie. "Figured I'd check things here out and maybe take a break from being a magical princess for a night or two."

Rachel Roth has posed:
Rachel bobs her head and snickers, "Oh yes, if there's anything Reese's Peanut Butter Cups are missing, it's the risk of demonic incursion." She bobs her head and sighs out, "Oh yes, but no matter how much willpower one has, I have been told it is only healthy to occasionally fail to resist, to indulge... responsibly. Or at least as responsibly as one can."

She shrugs her shoulders lightly, fingers lacing above her head as she stretches casually at the mention of there being more to her, "Well, I do occasionally wear a cloak and fight crime." It's deadpan, Rachel's eyes closing as though she's stretching in absolute casual disregard for her own words... only for one eye to peek open and appraise Amy's reaction to the 'joke'. Only to linger as Amy toys with her pendant and that feeling of magic tickles through Rachel's being, controlled breath involuntarily deepening for a moment, "Oh, yes, something tells me you're... not the dabbling sort who was just hoping to find some pretty crystals and a oujia board..." Her tongue clicks softly, rhythmically, both eyes opening and eyebrows lifting slightly at the remark about the quality of clientele.

Eyes narrow anew though and she murmurs out softly, "Yes, well, I imagine you /could/ say supermarkets have cute customers. Though that might be because once you're there you skew the statistics towards the cute."

Head tilts and she hums softly, "Oh, so your magic uses gems? Like... /uses/ them? That's..." Those dark painted lips press in a thoughtful line, "Hm. I don't think I've encountered that particular magic before. Using gems as a focus certainly, but not... as a material." Eyes are now entirely focused on Amy, the store forgotten. "And a princess? I don't think I technically count as a princess." She frowns thoughtfully, "I don't think my father counts as a /king/, just a lord."

Amy Winston has posed:
Amy grins at Rachel's snicker, playfully shrugging. "Exactly! Nothing like indulging in a little chocolate while risking a surprise visit from some netherworld creature, right? Though I prefer the taste of honey fresh off the comb." she admits to Rachel as she looks over at a small container of sand, still toying with the amethyst between her breasts.

As Rachel stretches, deadpanning about fighting crime in a cloak, Amy can't help but chuckle. She leans in slightly, as if sharing in the joke but with a twinkle of understanding in her eyes. "A cloak and crime-fighting, huh? Sounds familiar. I think I know a thing or two about that kind of life myself." Her smile lingers, knowing full well Rachel wasn't entirely kidding.

Her fingers still idly play with the pendant as Rachel narrows her eyes and appraises her. Amy smirks at the remark about supermarkets and cute customers. "Well, I try to help the average cuteness stats wherever I go, but you are definitely the attraction here, Rachel." she teases, her tone light and cheerful.

When the conversation shifts to magic, Amy's expression brightens. "Yeah, my magic isn't quite like the usual stuff around here. I use crystals and gems as part of the spells-they don't just focus the magic; sometimes they become it, if that makes sense. I can tap into their energy, shape it, and turn it into something physical." She raises an eyebrow, her voice lowering slightly, as if letting Rachel in on a secret. "Like, say? a sword."

As Rachel muses about her own lineage, Amy's smile softens. "Hey, princess or not, I bet you've got just as much power as any royal I've ever met." She gives a small, knowing nod. "Besides, titles don't always define who we are. I mean, technically I'm a princess, but here on Earth, I'm just Amy Winston, your average girl trying to figure things out."

"But I think such deeper discussions should be done over a dinner. Or dancing. You can learn so much from a girl with what she wears to dancing, how much she's willing to share, or keep to herself." Yes, Rachel's crystal has drawn her attention. "I can feel the... overwhleming magic there. But I will not pry until you want to share. As for myself? I come from a realm known as Nilaa. Or Gemworld in the more /base/ tongue." She says with a small sigh.

Rachel Roth has posed:
Rachel smirks and nods her head, leaning in towards Amy and dropping her voice to a hissing whisper, "Well, honestly? I think like half the customers in these shops are the same. Maybe not half, but... anyone buying anything that really has a use in magic? They're definitely not buying it to sit around not doing things with it. And no one really makes love potions, right? So crime fighting. It's definitely always crime fighting."

She gives a half hearted little roll of her eyes at the compliment... which, really, is how she responds to most compliments nowadays. Not so far gone into self-recrimination for being half demon that she outright refuses them, but still solidly awkward about just /accepting/ them.

But then Amy's explaining some of her magic and Rachel's right back to total focus on the magic and the implications and all those actually /very nerdy/ interests in magic she has. "Oh, that's fair. I mean, really, my relation to my father is mostly important in regards to his desire to use me to rule the world. Well, universe. Reality?" She sighs and shrugs, "Well, his interest in doing bad things. Though with that news out of space lately, I'll admit, part of me wants to have a good laugh if he shows up to cause trouble and finds the planet got eaten."

And then her eyebrows lift once more and she smirks, "Well, dancing it is then. Though I don't know how much discussion of magic we'll get done unless it's like... formal ballroom dancing. Trying to talk over the bass at a club would be... a challenge." She hums softly and tilts her head, brow furrowing, "Well now, I'll have to flip through my books and scrolls for any mention of Nilaa." Eyes narrow slightly, "And you seem to handle our /base tongue/ very well, Princess!"

Amy Winston has posed:
"Is there any other type of dance?" comes Amy's playful retort to Rachel's comment about ballroom dancing. "I am a Princess, after all. And look spectacular in a gown." She mimes a curtsey to her with that. "I'm sure we'd look great gliding around, discussing spells and arcane theory like it's no big deal." She winks playfully, then laughs. "And yeah, the club scene might not be the best for magic discussions-unless we're casting some soundproofing spells first."

Amy grins at Rachel's whisper, leaning in just as conspiratorially. "Oh, absolutely. Love potions are so last century. Everyone knows it's all about crime-fighting these days, maybe with a dash of demon-portal avoidance for good measure." She giggles softly, her cheerful tone making light of the underlying reality they both know too well. "My every day is pretty much magic usage." she admits.

Watching Rachel's subtle eye roll at the compliment, Amy smiles warmly, not pushing but understanding. Compliments are tricky when you're juggling your own inner battles. She knows that better than anyone. So she subtly backs off until Rachel makes it clear she wants to flirt again.

When the conversation shifts back to magic, Amy's eyes light up. "Well, ruling the universe is definitely one way to make a family reunion memorable." She chuckles softly but offers a sympathetic look. "But yeah, I get it. My connection to Nilaa isn't just about being a princess-it's about people, responsibilities, and the danger of what happens if it all goes wrong." She pauses, then adds with a wry grin, "I'd kind of rather avoid that whole 'world-ending scenario,' but I'll admit, it'd be interesting to see him pop by and find out the planet's already has a cosmic visitor coming."

As Rachel mentions Nilaa and Amy's grasp of Earth's language, Amy straightens a bit, her tone turning mock-regal. "Why, thank you! I do try to master the 'base tongue' of this realm. I find it's much easier to get a smoothie when you ask in English." Opening her mouth, Rachel may make out the outline of a spell branded into the roof of Amy's mouth. "The Citrine of Tongues." she explains. "Implanted in me when I was a baby. Can understand any language. Except, apparently, emotional ones." she says with a hint of chagrin.

"... but I'd like to go to the club with you." she admits as she takes out her phone to get Rachel's number. She giggles again, her usual warmth returning as she adds, "And if you ever want to know more about Nilaa, I'd be happy to give you the royal tour... just, you know, minus the whole warzone part."

Rachel Roth has posed:
"Oh, there are /many/ sorts of dance... Kori knows more about them than I do, what with her modelling career, and I'm sure she's gone to many parties with DJs and everything... though there's something about the rhythm and order of ballroom dancing that /is/ unique." She quirks an eyebrow and grins, sighing out softly, "Although I feel like casting a silence spell to discuss magic /while/ we dance means we'd have to rely on innate rhythm. And that might be a problem for me... I do not actually go dancing often."

It's entirely possible she hasn't /gone dancing/, so much as just danced at Kori's insistence when her alien princess friend had a song blaring. But she's not going to admit that!

She nods solemnly, "Oh yes, mine as well. And really, if you can't avoid demonic portals it's always good to know how to seal them. Sometimes they just sort of..." She waves a hand vaguely, "Pop up. They're not usually a huge deal then, or even when it's some group of cultists opening one on purpose, they're usually just dupes for some low level demon, the bigger ones are too busy fighting one another or hiding from even /stronger/ ones to be meddling with Earth."

Rachel offers up her number, since she's willing to admit that modern technology is /so/ much more convenient for banter and scheduling than relying on delivery birds or sprites or other magic. She's clearly a little surprised at Amy's particular method of being able to speak all languages as she murmurs out dryly, "Well! I did not take you for the tattoo sort... though I guess a useful magic tattoo /is/ an exception that makes sense." She sighs out and murmurs, voice playfully pitched, "And trust me, you will come to know quite well that... yes. I know exactly how tricky emotions can be. And I'd offer to give you a tour of my father's realm in return, but... well, if we go for a tour there and skip the warzone parts... look! We just did the tour!"

Amy Winston has posed:
"I've definitely met Kori and can imagine her in action at parties; she's like this endless ball of energy, right? I've been dragged into those DJ-fueled dance floors a couple of times. And ballroom dances back home - usually to introduce me to young men oh so willing to take the daughter of the House Amethyst and a Lord of Order as their new wife." Amy rolls her eyes at that this time. She pauses, her grin widening. "Though, if a silence spell is involved, we might have to rely on some serious intuition. And intimacy of what the other is planning to do." She may actually be a little excited by that idea, considering the little glow in her violet eyes. And she reaches for Rachel's hand for a moment. If the other woman accepts, she'll pull her around a corner with high displays - and she magics into one of her clubbing outfits. Ripped skinny jeans, distressed tee. "Is this better?" she asks Rachel softly.

She leans in with a playful wink, "But hey, at least if we mess up, we can just magic ourselves out of the awkwardness, right?"

Amy listens as Rachel talks about demonic portals with a kind of casual ease that makes Amy chuckle again. "Yeah, sealing portals is definitely a useful skill to have in your back pocket. I mean, who hasn't had a random demonic portal pop up on their to-do list, right? But hey, if it's just a bunch of cultists with a second-rate demon, it's almost fun, a little magical clean-up and then you're off to grab a coffee."

When Rachel offers her number, Amy takes it with a smile, pulling out her phone and quickly saving it. "Technology does make things easier, doesn't it? I mean, I can use telepathy, but that's a bit intense for, like, 'Hey, wanna grab a smoothie?' Texting is way more chill." She gives Rachel a playful nudge. "And yeah, no tattoos here, but the Citrine mark does the job. It's got some handy perks, including my very cool, multi-language 'translator mode.'"

Amy laughs softly at Rachel's playful tone about her father's realm. "Oh, wow, a tour that skips the warzones and the soul-devouring entities? How generous of you! I think I'll stick to the Earth tour for now, but maybe we'll save the interdimensional travel for a rainy day." She grins, clearly enjoying the light-hearted banter.

Rachel Roth has posed:
"Oh, she is indeed. It turns out the drive to be a princess and paragon of justice /also/ works to be the drive to partying with limitless stam...iiii...na!" Her words trail off as it hits her. Princess, cheerful, from another world... oh goodness. This Amy is going to be an experience to know. "Oh, yes, that could be a problem... I mean, fortunately I'm not the sort of princess to worry about betrothals... that /may/ be the one unadulterated benefit to being a /demonic/ princess..."

And then they're around the corner and her fingers are laced with Amy's, and suddenly the princess of Gemworld's in her clubbing attire in a metaphorical flash! And Rachel's certainly not going to let her go through that effort without appreciating it, eyebrows lifting, dark eyes sweeping down... up... down again... and then slowly winding back up. "Mh. Well, there are a great many ways to communicate. And... well, if you're brand new to Earth, you have picked up on clubbing fashion with... simply remarkable ease and accuracy. Yes. That will... definitely do. For clubbing."

She snickers softly and sighs out, an almost involuntary noise of casual amusement and enjoyment! That gruff, sullen mask slipping. "Oh, well, honestly, the Tower's much better for tours than my father's realm anyhow. Unless you really like beating up demons more than rooftop pools, giant televisions, and the holographic training room. And yes, texting is... good for those things. After all, magical telepathy lacks emojis. And do not worry... I promise even if we /do/ go for a tour... I will resist any urge. To devour your soul."

Amy Winston has posed:
Amy lets Rachel's words wash over her, the teasing about betrothals and demonic princess titles making her chuckle. "Well, I guess being a demonic princess does have its perks, huh? At least you're spared the whole 'royal obligation' nightmare." Amy's voice softens a little, though there's still a playful edge. "And hey, between the two of us, I think we've got this whole 'nontrad princess' thing pretty well covered."

As Rachel's gaze sweeps over her, Amy can feel the faintest flush rise to her cheeks. She'd chosen her clubbing attire with care, trying to blend in with Earth's style-yet the compliment still catches her off guard. She doesn't release Rachel's hand, not quite ready to break that small but intimate connection. "Well, I am a quick learner," she quips, glancing down at her outfit with a grin. "It helps that clubbing fashion isn't too far off from battle-ready armor-just, you know, with a bit more glitter and a lot less sword swinging. And... this is my third time here. My witch-mother brought me here when I was three after my parents were murdered in an attempted cue. I was here until thirteen, I came back when I was nineteen when the war reached a stalemate... and now I'm here... to hopefully free my home."

She holds Rachel's gaze a moment longer than necessary, her reluctance to let go palpable. "The Tower sounds amazing, honestly. And yeah, I think I'd prefer rooftop pools and giant TVs over battling demons any day. I haven't worn a swimsuit in forever. But... if we ever do the 'demon tour,' I'll be counting on you to protect me from any rogue soul-snacking." she teases softly.

Her thumb absently strokes the back of Rachel's hand as she chuckles softly. "And hey, you're right, telepathy's great and all, but it can't beat a well-placed emoji." Still, she hesitates, not quite ready to pull her hand away, but finally does so, unless stopped.

Rachel Roth has posed:
Rachel smiles lopsidedly, eyes narrow, gleaming with just a little hint of wicked mirth... fingers tightening slightly. But then they yield and she sighs out, "Oh yes. Though it's got its drawbacks as well, but I am learning not to dwell on that... and to cope with the occasional... demonic outburst."

She clicks her tongue and eyebrows lift high, "Clubbing attire has only /a bit/ more glitter than battle? I didn't know royal fighting had any glitter at all. Intriguing. We will discuss this further."

That cool, almost tauntingly level voice is back in place and Rachel lets their touch part as she glances up, like she's trying to recall something. "Alas, I think I'm the next person on monitor duty.... so I should be getting back." She narrows her eyes once more, "But if you find yourself unoccupied, you can text me. It's never really that fun sitting around watching the screens."

And then Rachel's stepping back, giving a little flourish with both hands, and in a sweep of purple fire rising up from her feet, her casual attire disappears... and given the cut of her costume, doesn't replace it until her costume flares into being from hips to neck, before her cloak billows into existence. She sighs melodramatically and deadpans, "Work clothes."

And then in another flare of magic energy, and a low laugh, she vanishes. Presumably off to a day of staring at monitors. The unsung downside to heroic teamwork.